Sugar Pot-ing

Sick

I am a big baby. 

I am a prisoner in Kingston. 

I rarely go to the beautiful rural areas of the island.  

Why? 

Because I get very motion sick. 

The last time I went to the country I had to have everyone I was traveling with stop twice for me to sit on the side of the road and try not to die. 

I felt so horrible for them. 

I knew I shouldn't even have went but I am tired of being a prisoner. 

So

I took the chance of maybe dying to go to the St. Mary hash where I almost drowned and/or got eaten by sharks. 

Hmm. 

Anyway.  

Motion sick sucks. 

And sometimes I get sick even on short rides. 

Sometimes as soon the car pulls off I am sick. 

I have tried pills. 

I have tried looking at the horizon.  

I have tried to suck on mints. 

I have tried to rub rubbing alcohol on my brow. 

I have tried almost everything but still I get motion sick. 

C'est la vie. 

Such is life. 

I guess I will continue to be a prisoner of motion sickness but I have decided I will not be a prisoner of Kingston anymore. 

I will go everywhere I can go and motion sickness be damned. 

Hmm. 

I have big talk now, eh? 

A Miracle

I went to a beautiful private beach in St. Mary, Jamaica yesterday morning for some Hash thing.

A Hash is sort of a maze that you can, either, walk or run.  

I didn't do the hash. 

Hmm. 

I went snorkeling instead. 

My snorkel set is so awesome that when I looked up out of the water I was so far away from the beach I thought I was going to be pulled away never heard from again. 

And I was, also, petrified that sharks would attack me in the deep waters I found myself in as I swam for my life back to the shore. 

I made it. 

By a miracle. 

I thought I was a tasty hot blooded meal for a set of razor sharp heartless teeth for sure

Or that

I was going to end up in the middle of the deep blue sea and drown. 

Once I went to the island of St. Thomas and the tide pulled me out and I knew I was dead. 

I couldn't even swim against it. 

I knew that I was dead. 

Honestly. 

But my Heavenly Father made a wave appear and it slapped me on the beach so hard on my back that the air rushed out of my lungs.

I was basically dead before that. 

No amount of swimming I did was going to ever get me back to that beautiful sandy beach in St. Thomas. 

Only a miracle sent that wave to slapped me on that beach that day. 

The water doesn't care about you. 

I knew that so long ago in St. Thomas. 

I rediscovered that, again, yesterday. 

Unfortunately. 

Yesterday I was so scared but I blocked it out and just swam away from the deeper shark filled water because I didn't know what else to do. 

I feel cold now, though. 

My blood just ran deathly cold as the memory of it hit me. 

I feel like I'm going to start hyperventilating. 

Seriously. 

I was so scared. 

Now I even more scared. 

I feel cold at the real fact that I was almost dead. 

Again.  

The thought of where I was when I looked up is so scary to me now that I feel faint. 

Seriously. 

Let's be careful out there. 

The water doesn't care.          

Beach Life